The Way Back Home
The Way back Home is the demon-hunting tale of Jevla and Miscris, and their apparent struggle with the new, seemingly rotting Eden Mata Nui offered his peoples after his Fall. Prologue : A Dark, New Land "How our Universe has changed! When Aqua Magna and Botus Magna reunited with Spherus Magna at last, we all knew the consequences would be ... '' ''"life-changing?" Of course they would have been. The Great Spirit seemingly liberated the Universe of all Evil Beings, the Makuta above all else. He offered us a land of opportunities But did he, really? Over the years, after the Great Spirit Fall, me and Miscris hunted. Not any ordinary hunt. An hunt for evil, and evil doers around our brand new world. And how much of it we saw! The Skrall Outriders campaigns against the rest of the Universe, the ensuing chaos, destruction and death, and how we neutralized their leader, breaking their Empire in pieces. The necromantic mass-revival in Backwater Impact (that some people may know as Aqua Impact), and how we put them back to rest. And, worst of all, the demonic entity that we are currently hunting, and that may be tied to the two previous events. Evil lurks in his path, an everlasting darkness looms in the sky, as we draw closer, closer to it ... Some say that Evil is dead. They just want to think the Devil can die. And if anybody read my journal one day, may he knows that the Devil can't die, because he's immortal. The thing is, we can still hurt him like Hell. Or send him back to it, or whatever is closest to dying for demons. Because what would be the other option? Lie down and let Evil win?" -Jevla, The Demon's Game, or'' Our greatest Hunt'' Chapter 1 : Visions and Pain 1 A smell of humid ash and cinders was floating around the air and drops of rain began falling as Miscris gently shook her companion shoulder, notifying him to wake up. Jevla only nodded and grumbled, and Miscris acknowledged that unintelligible sound, as if she understood it. Somewhere in the forest around them, some Rahi chirped a loud, oppressing call, seemingly warning its kind of danger nearby, but with that sound, Miscris sensed a threat too. Her jaws tightened as she grabbed her disk-launcher. Jevla was on alert too, already back on his feet, one Airsword in each hands. An ominous silence grabbed the jungle, only broken by the wind in the branch of the high trees. Rain dripping from her mask, Miscris aimed at one of the entry point of their hidden clearing, their shelter for one night. Jevla was at her back, his swords shining with the grey, weak light filtering through the canopy. - Hearing it crushing leaves and branches on my side. It's a jugg, Miscris! whispered Jevla, seemingly calm, yet letting out a nervosity she could not deny. A clear otherworldy sound could be heard from where Miscris began to aim. She and Jevla couldn't see anything but darkness caused by the trees. Then she heard a weak, timed sound that transformed in to a loud rumble. - Jevla, that juggernaut wants us! Brace for that charge, and try to dodge it. Slice his legs, and I'll try to decapitate him with one of my disks ... - I'm not stupid, Mis. But is it just me or they keep getting bigger? You know, I think this one is a record, if you consider the sounds ... Miscris smiled. and Jevla smiled too, since he knew what she would say. - The bigger they are, Jev ... - The harder they'll have to dig to go back to Hell! Miscris laughed openly, and the rumble seemed to stop for a moment. Then it started back, even faster than before. - It's so afraid of us. No wonder, since we killed every last of his brethren since we started to track his master, Jevla said, a certain point of pride in his voice. Come to us, demon. Come and try to stop us. The grumble stopped suddenly. A death howl echoed in the clearing, seeming to rend silent the rain and the wind themselves. Nothing was moving, and Time seemingly ceased. And the demon came. 2 The very first peak the Matorans had at it was its forearm emerging from the darkness. The thing was clearly organic ; its flesh looked like powerful muscles, but somehow strangely resembled as much a plant as some tortured animal. Its arm fully emerged from the darkness, touching the ground with his unholy hand, and Jevla could clearly see its thorned, blackish brown flesh, and his hands ending in mortal rending claws, as big as his own thumb. Whatever that thing is, it's clearly got something for the dramatic entrance. And that mean it has conceit, Jevla thought. He shuddered a bit. The demon advanced slowly toward the Matorans, always revealing more of the ugly, monstrous presence it was. The head was one of a vulture, but just as similar as the arm, or the rest of the body for that matter. Its eyes were just as vapid as its flesh, with a brownish teint only pierced by black holes as dark as its soul. Its jaws opened, revealing his black, irregular, sharp teeth and his vomit-green tongue. It emitted a high pitched noise, somehow similar to a cry. Jevla did not hear it, and neither did Miscris ; they were too occupied with the demon's screams in their heads. - You dare laugh at their deaths? Lord Rûl wanted you to turn back! He wanted you away ... But I have other plans, for my brothers' blood still flowed, and their trip to Hell ... The being charged toward the confused Matoran couple. - ... WILL BE AVENGED! BLOOD FOR RÛL'!''' The might of his charge unfurled at Miscris, the beserked demon didn't notice Jevla roll out of its trajectory until it was too late ... Which was when its left arm and leg were sawed clean. A dark, black-purple liquid emanated from pain-crazed being, flooding what was once Miscris' fire pit. Jevla then mounted on its back, and pierced it with his two swords. A cry of surprise and of intense pain echoed throughout the forest, as Jevla jumped, avoiding a massive punch from the demon, enraged. Dragging itself to kill Jevla, it saw him back away until he was cornered by a tree. The demon charged on him, and punched him hard. Jevla was knocked out, a smile on his face ; the demon then remembered the other one, but too late. ''Clic One single psychic cry emerged before it died, a plasma disk eviscerating him, and another making its brain blow up. - Mercy? ... Declic*''Declic'' 3 Jevla only had the vague idea that Miscris fired two times before he passed out from the pain of the demon's attack. '' ''He must say that it caught him by surprise ; the demons ARE getting faster and smarter. '' ''He knows that his train of thoughts will derail soon. '' ''He wants his memories to be happy one when he'll sleep, but he already knows he's going back to a nightmarish Hell, since the only thoughts he can think of is a memory, a sentence said by someone evil, reeking of death and decay. "I have an army, you don't even have your companion, she's bleeding to death below us. Soon she'll join my eternal war band, and bring death to all on this doomed world! Come and join me, old friend ..." He heard a loud clarion-like noise, a sound he remembers for its hellish powers, and he screams. "''Oh no, please, I don't want to go back to this Hell please don't let me go I don't want I am pretty sure it's painful I am ..."'' 4 Seven years ago, a long distance before Backwater Impact. - ... pretty sure we are in presence of something demonic in nature, Miscris. Both of them were examining the half-decomposed body of a Muaka they found on the paved road, far away from the last city before the Uncharted Territories. Jevla was looking at it, standing tall and thinking, while Miscris was leaning right next to it, trying to find evidence about Jevla's statement. - I think you might be right, Jev. Look at that rune ... She pointed at something at the back of the Rahi's head, something that looked like ... - It's carved in its head, isn't it? It's freaking carved ... began Jevla. - Demons usually doesn't care about dead things, since when they kill them, their souls are send straight to Hell, Miscris said. Jevla didn't move a bit. He was still thinking. - Not one thing tried to bite a piece of it. I think the rune cursed it, Miscris continued. - Remember that Agori who tried to summon the ghost of a Zeverek in Bodunia, twelve years ago? asked Jevla, an idea in mind. - Yeah. That was some cheap necromancy, using authentic spells thought. - Not spells. Runes. Miscris got up, finally understanding the idea. - Crap. You can't be serious. - The necromancer we saw back then had no powers, since he didn't know where to place the runes. You remember, he placed them on the burial ground. This one knows its stuff. Miscris took her disk-launcher from her back, and aimed at the head of the Muaka. - What if it's just sleeping? We should make sure it's laid to rest, she said. Jevla nodded. - Do it. Miscris engaged her weapon, and shot a plasma disk directly at his head. A green, liquid-like smoke emerged from the cavity of its throat, dispersing in the air. - I also think something is wrong in town. The body should have been seen by passers-by, Miscris said. A dark cloud was hovering in the direction of the city and the road ahead, making the surrounding forest darker and darker. Jevla was sure he could hear something in the distance, coming from Backwater Impact's direction. Some sort of clarion. 5 "''Come to me, old friend ..."'' The wave of memories almost crushed him when Jevla thought about it again. A souvenir he hoped he would forget one day. Alas, it had to come back to him, and haunt him in his darkest moments, like this between-life-and-death experience. "''If I go throught this again, I need to do it in one shot ; else I'll go crazy."'' Another memory came back : A dark figure, posed above him, triumphant at the top of the mountain, laughing with the crackling sound of the unholy storm, raging in all its demonic might. "''Come to me, old friend! Let it all go ... And slip away ..."'' 6 As Miscris and Jevla advanced on the road, the dark cloud above Backwater Impact maintained, thought it filtered some brilliant rays of light, enough to behold the last civilized city before the wilds. Approximately one thousand and five hundred years ago, Aqua Magna impacted at that same spot, leaving fire, magma and an hellish landscape in its explosion radius. The explosion was so intense that it created mountains that chained around the center (known as the Backwater's Mountains), and a central volcano peak named Magnus Point was erected at the same time. Over the years, the inhospitable lava pits around the Magnus volcano (that rapidly died after fourty years of constant eruption) began to cool down and the would-be Backwater Plains became a hot, dusty wasteland. From there, it was pretty easy to imagine millions of plants sprouting from the ashes, and two hundred years after the impact, the Backwater Plains passed from volcanic hellscape to a lushful jungle. After its discovery by Matorans from the newly-founded Civilized Toa Protectorate, the region was quickly colonized for its unique wood essences and the opportunity to explore the Uncharted Territories, and, as such, Backwater Impact was founded as a little, peaceful establishment. After the discovery of important Protosilver veins under Magnus Point, it was no surprise that the colony rose from the state of sovereign village to fully-recognized city-state of the Protectorate. Backwater Impact was a jewel ; great farms arboring golden wheat everywhere, until the city appeared, like a ring on the irregular yet beautiful sight that was Magnus Point. Even thought the town was high compared to the mountain's height, a clear, safe and low-angle road was circling around the peak, descending from the city to the mainroad in the plains. The town itself was a wonder. Its walls seemed to be build of concassed, then polished obsidian, resplendishing in the sun. Only the roofs of the tallest buildings could be seen, and they seemed to be made of gold with inserted rubies. Another road could be seen, much more slim and dangerous than the entry's ; the pilgrim's road to the summit, told to be sacred for the Nuist Cult of the town. Nuism was a fully fledged religion, talking of Mata Nui as a Messiah for all the people of Spherus Magna. It was told that when he fell, his spirit created an heaven in the sky, and that such mountains were key-points to it. As they drew closer to the city, then, the storm gave no more occasions of seeing anymore bright sides of the town. Even less, in fact ; the darkness seemed to contrast the most disgusting parts of the city : Its waste system deversing in a neighboring river ; Some of the entry's road apparent failing ledges ; and, best for last, the imperturbable feeling of dread. - I sense a glimpse of demonic energies in these plains, Jevla declared. - Imagine how it must be in town, Miscris said in return, nervously. Jevla looked at Backwater Impact, disgust in his eyes. - It looks like a scab now. Miscris nodded. Of course, what else could it look like now, with that demonic presence in the air? The clarion rang again, even louder than in the jungle, its sound now amplified with the emptiness of the Plains. Miscris shivered, and she thought she saw Jevla, looking liked he had the headache of a lifetime. The clarion came from Magnus Point's summit. A clue they ought to follow. 7 Jevla woke up in the clearing where he and Miscris fought the demon, two days ago. Still confused wether he was still dreaming or not, he noticed Miscris looking at him on the other side of their hideout. A great pyre was burning on the northern edge of the clearing. - I burned it. There should be no more corruption in that forest, now, Miscris said. Jevla kept silent. He was still seeing her doubled ; herself in that clearing, and her past version, bleeding to death in the Nuist temple, near the summit. "Get that sucker for me. I'll watch your back." Jevla began to cry before Miscris. She then urged to him. - Are you hurt? What is it? Jevla sobbed and shivered. - I should have told you ... It's all my fault ... A supreme feeling of tiredness grappled Jevla, urging him to return. "Your trip to hell isn't ending now. It's waaaaaay too soon, ..." "... Old friend ..." - It's all my fault ... The Necromancer ... And Jevla lost consciousness, back to an old, forgotten nightmare. Chapter 2 : On the heights of Magnus 1 If there was something I'd want to forget, it would be that night, on the slopes of Magnus. The city of Backwater Impact itself went mad before our very eyes. The horror that happened in the Plains and the town were nothing however, compared to the demonic rituals exerced at the summit. Even if it was 5 years ago this night, I can still remember the chorus of screams of the enthralled, and of our bloody ascension. How much blood did we shed? We must have killed the whole damned town, Miscris and I. Even thought it disgusts me to do so, I am taken with pride when I remember that we were unstoppable. I remember my Airswords, sliding in my hands, seemingly thirsting for undead flesh, as Plasma disks were flying over my head, decapitating every last living dead Miscris aimed at. I remember the sound of bodies, rolling over the edges of the mountain, falling to Mata Nui knows where, to decompose and rot. I remember every faces, and every runes marked on their skulls. I remember the last of those dead-Toa-bastards slashing her, leaving her in a critical state. I had to leave her in the church. But I remember something Miscris cannot. She did not go on the highest point of the mountain, she did not fight in the grey spring. She doesn't remember the burning pain that the clarion made, since she was unconscious, in the temple, 600 feet downward. '' ''She doesn't remember the crackling of thunder, the red, dreadful flashes of lightning. Her eyes were closed, nothing disturbed her. She doesn't remember him. The Necromancer. And I hope to whatever may be protecting us that she'll never know of him, or of what he did up there. The same for you, for I will write no more. Or, at least, for now. -Jevla, The Onslaught of Magnus 2 It had been three hours since Jevla and Miscris began the ascension of Magnus, and they met nothing but dust, and the great crimson darkness caused by the storm. In the Backwater Plains, they did not even find a single evidence that there was life here ; someone could have thought that Backwater Impact just built itself in one night! There were farms, there was food, there were tools, but not one trace of a fight, not even a trail of blood! Something was very, very wrong with the sky. The storm noticed by Jevla did not go away ; it was emanating from the highest of Magnus Point, and seemed only to get stronger, to go further upon the horizon, bringing its dreadful, fake night behind it. Something about it (an idea, perhaps?) was trotting in his head, something he could not get his fingers on. Bah, you'll get it next time. Miscris was litterally looking shooked. She was trembling as she walked. She knew people in that city, Jevla knows it. He even accompanied her one time in it. 5400 Matorans. About seven Toas, and that didn't include the other inhabitants : Skakdis and Vortixx, refugees of the great Canal War, their species killing each others, leaving the Protectorate locked in the cross-fire. Jevla estimated the count of living beings in the city at about 6300 people. For now, Jevla could only makes suppositions ; what if they were under siege ... from the mountain peak? They would have had to barricade themselves in the city, and avoid to get out, since demons or hell revenants care little for mountain slopes, and could be waiting on the other sides. Jevla feared this could be the first of many demonic invasion if his theory was correct. But, even then ... Could it be something else? Could 6300 people just ... overnight?... Jevla was afraid, because both his theories were equally terrifying. And, after what he saw, both of them had to have demonic affiliations. He hoped that it was not too late. And still, that damned carrion ringed, louder, every time louder than before. Enough to make his whole body convulse one single time. 3 If someone wanted to look shooked but knew her part, it was Miscris. As they walked right in a darkness so dense they could only barely see the road ahead, Miscris knew she had to lock away her feelings for this place, and its inhabitants. But it was hard, so hard ... Try it, but you can't. Nikolai, Hurkys, Neymun, Jurys, Nurlo, ... All names that you remember, all names that are lost ... Lock it. you need to do it. You want to add his name to the list? Miscris used all of her will to push back these fears, and suddenly seemed unstrung. Jevla almost jumped, it was so unexpected. But he knew what she just did. I am only the eye, and the hand. The eye that aim, the hand that pull the trigger. She knew her place, so long as this story did not end. She was the living weapon, the Demongunner. Jevla always feared that sudden apparition of the killer's instinct, because of its coldness, its efficacity. Maybe he fears for his own life, dear ... Miscris pushed her a bit further in her head. She had no need for her humor. Not now. Not ever. But she needed its skills. Onward to battle ..., dear ... 4 Jevla's fear exponentially increased as he approached the gates of the citadel. He would have loved to have the split-personality of Miscris, the one she called Demongunner, and that she hid behind in every single fight. But he didn't. He didn't want to cure Miscris either ; this thing that was in her mind's dark corner is protecting her in every single fight they did for now. If this personality was ever to disappear, Miscris would be ... lost. He renounced to help Miscris by bringing her to Toa Haikiu, and instead brought her to more fights to sate the thirst of battle of Spunky DG. Jevla, on the other hand, has to live every fights by himself, hoping that Miscris don't get killed ; hoping to find objectives before doing onslaught ; and hoping to protect civilians. He is the one that is not supposed to bring a knife to the gun party ; he's the one supposed to find a logic in madness ; in short, he was leading. And Jevla didn't like it. Finally, they were at approximately 100 hundred meters of the citadel. The black walls of obsidian seemed impassable, in their heights. There was something, however, not right, and Jevla noticed it : - The gates are open, Mis. Indeed they were. The colossal gates of wood and iron were slightly open, althought the city was so dark that Miscris and Jevla could not see past them. Jevla should have been scared, but he wasn't. Everything dropped, as it always did just before a fight ; battle was coming, and they couldn't afford to be weak. Jevla unsheathed his Airswords, and Miscris did the same with her disk-launcher. Now, they only needed to know what they were fighting. 5 As Jevla violently opened the gates, putting his Airswords before him, awaiting an attack, he stopped for one millisecond, acknowledging the hundreds of forms barring his way, creatures of sorrow, despair and anguish, and acknowledging that they are the servitors of the clarion. He looked at them, and shivered, for they were slaves, but not any slaves ; an entire city enthralled by some unholy means to something that didn't belong here anymore. For seconds after Jevla's entrance, nothing moved. The mindless, decomposing Matorans looked at him with no emotions. And then the clarion ranged, its loudest call since their arrival, a sound powerful enough to break minds. Jevla almost fainted, the clarion's echoes resonating in his brain, talking of madness, and rage beyond control. Miscris quickly grabbed him, and shook him to make him recover. - They charging at us, Jev! If you get us killed, I swear I'll make your death a real hell! Miscris shouted, waking Jevla up, adrenaline rushing everywhere inside of him. As Miscris was saying, the rotten corpses began running (if we can call a mass tripping on the city's streets while trying to get to them running) toward them, making throaty noises, some of them squirming on the ground to grab them. To Jevla, that was the moment the onslaught began. Jevla knew no pity for his opponents. As one Ko-Matoran approached him, with an odor that would make even a courageous Toa faint in horror, Jevla mercifully ended his painful existence by slashing his face in two parts. The dead thing emitted a rale that seemed not to be of agony but of relief. The madness was just starting however. That Matoran was but the first of many. An horde of them came toward Jevla, as a big, slow wave, tending their arms to take him, and make him one of them. Jevla saw some disks flying toward this unstoppable tide, but no mere disks could end it, as they were legions ; for every one Miscris killed, a decade would take it's place. Jevla fought it off the best he could, but was soon overwhelmed by its mighty strenght. Miscris, or more the Demongunner, would let no love get in the way of work. But she needed Jevla for Miscris to continue functionning properly ("What would I be without him?") and for them to finish the task at hand : demonic purification. She picked one of her plasma disks and locked on Jevla's last sight : at the heart of the dead's wave. Unwavering thought they approached, Miscris fired right in the center of it. Energy dripped from the disk while it coursed for the unholy beings, screaming agony, reaching out for her. The disk exploded when it touched one of the bodies, a Ta-Matoran. For a second, the Demongunner thought she saw surprise in its eyes, and perhaps even ... joy? At least, its suffering ended in less than a second, for the disk exploded in a mighty blast that litterally blew up the wave. The show itself was horrific : fountains of blood erupting from everywhere, parts of Matoran falling from the crimson-black skies, and a red bathing of organs and flesh on every walls of evry building in a certain radius. The Demongunner only blinked when the warm wave of blood erupted toward her very being, as instinct commanded. Else, she didn't even move out of fright. She just walked toward Jevla, her entire body covered in coagulating liquid, neverminding the few survivors of her assault, dismembered, begging for a merciful death. Jevla himself was finishing off the body that served him as cover when the disk exploded while himself being laying on the street ; giving him the sweet peace of death was the most thankful thing he could do for it. His entire silver and green armor burned, his mask was changed from green to black and red, and Miscris could clearly see the remnants of some poor bastard's brain on his left leg. His blue eyes looked at her, looking a bit perplexed. - Sorry for the short notice, hunt-friend, but you seemed in a hot situation with our now deceased fellows all around here, the Demongunner stated, smiling. Her dark green eyes looked right at him, with a bit of disappointment in her face ; this fight was over ... too soon. - Cut the act and give me a hand, you blue-skinned darling, Jevla said, laughing and tending his arms, asking for help to get up. And don't you worry you'll have some more on the road ahead. A real choir of cries erupted from around them. The bodies were all screaming their despair and agony. Both of them looked around and back at themselves, uneasy. - Take one of my Airsword, Mis, Jevla asked. We finish the job now. She took it, and they finished the job. An hour later, they passed the city's gate to the summit, and continued their road. Jevla couldn't help but count how many bodies were laying in the streets, and the results were frightening : only five hundreds were accounted, and he knew there was five thousands more on the road ahead. Jevla and Miscris would overcome. They had to : one thing for sure was, if they didn't, he knew that the screams of pain and suffering he heard during that fight would not make him rest in peace,'' in any outcome there would be''. 6 Strangely, the dead did not come again in the wave formation that almost crushed Jevla to death, since they were scattered on the road ahead. It seemed they wanted to go to the summit for some reasons. Miscris herself said that they could be trying to go and protect their master, which means that it could be afraid of Jevla and Miscris. Jevla, on the other hand, thought that it was merely a distraction, some way to slow them down until they arrived at the summit. If his theory would prove right, either "it" was making a trap for them, or "it" was (opening a demon rift unleashing forces beyond controls) awaiting reinforcement. Either were bad for them ; Jevla could sense it. As their ascension continued, more and more of the dead were falling, sliding the slopes of Magnus, their heads cut off or just missing, blood flowing down on the road, in a never ending stream. It seemed the culling would never end. Two hours of constant battle, fighting with debilitated, nightmarish enemies and clarion calls, which began to weaken since the city ; Miscris took it as a good sign ; Jevla thought the clarion was recharging its strenghts for one fatal assault. The tides of battle changed when they reached the temple of Nuism, and the horrors within. 7 Miscris and Jevla were chopping and shooting their way up when they finally saw the Nuist Cult's temple. In normal times, it would have been majestic : sculpted in the black stone of the mountain, the temple was on the exterior a testimony to the might of the Mask of Life, and of Mata Nui. Suspended gardens were floating from every columns, raining flowers on the Great Robot and one the pilgrim's path. Its sight was corrupted by some vile influence, however : the flowers were dying, and blood seemingly dropped from the high windows of the church. And the skies' colors were no way to help. - Miscris, there could be dead inside. We should clean it up, and take a break in it then, Jevla advised, his irregular breath betraying his fatigue. - I agree. As they walked, something gripped Jevla's heart. Something terrible would happen if they opened the church's gates, and Jevla suddenly had the feeling that it was a trap. Miscris continued walking, ignored her companion's sudden stop, and began pushing the gates as she shouted ; - Come on, what are you waiting for Jev? Stick with m ... She never finished that sentence, for three hands grabbed her neck from the other side of the gate, taking her in the darkness. - Miscris! NOOOOOOO! Jevla shouted, pursuing his companion's attacker inside of the temple. The gates closed behind him. Lights appeared on torches all around the room. And the trap was revealed to Jevla's anger. Seven dead Toas surrounding him, two of them holding Miscris, both with sacrificial knifes in one hand. The five others were smiling at him, revealing their rotten mouths and cracked teeths. And they laughed in triumph as one of the Toa lowered his knife toward Miscris' throat. 8 It happened very fast afterward. His foes underestimated the power of his Airswords. While Jevla himself was unable to call his elemental power to his aid, an old friend of his, Iyre, invented those to keep him in advantages in combat situations. Those swords could produce several great winds, as powerful as hurricanes, but for as much as three seconds. Enough for Jevla to save a life, and damn seven, however. He activated them, the right one toward Miscris. The knife of the Water Toa deviated because of the strong wind, to end slashing Miscris' chest armor, and severily damaging her shoulder. She cried in pain as blood began flowing out, but she had the strenght to struggle from her opponents, and cut loose from their grip. She ran, hiding somewhere near the gates. The other sword was aimed at Jevla's left flank, where there were the most Toas. One of the sacrifice-maker, an Ice Toa, and an Air Toa fell on the ground, almost knocked down, while an Earth one summoned a massive wall to protect him. Jevla had the confirmation to his suspicions ; these Toas were more tightly controlled than the Matorans if they used their elemental powers, which meaned that, obviously, someone was waiting for them. Jevla jumped on a broken column on his left, chopping the head of a Fire Toa and pushing his body one one of the armed Toa that tried to harm Miscris. He fell under his comrade's body, unable to push him off. The Earth Toa that summoned the wall would not stay iddly by while his friends began to get slaughtered. He broke off a column, and tossed it toward Jevla, while walking after Miscris. The Air Toa that was knocked on the ground followed him. Jevla easily dodged the column, that went straight in the plexus of a Stone Toa, that died, his back broken. He was a grim sight, since he was still standing on his feet, but his head was touching the ground on the other side. Jevla had no time to contemplate him, however ; he rolled toward the Air Toa, which turned his head in his direction. Jevla instinctively threw one of his sword at his neck. The blow cut his throat in two, making him die in seconds. The Earth Toa did not stop to witness the death of his teammate. He continue to advance toward Miscris' hiding place, under some imperious command, for an obvious reason : he's finishing the job. Jevla hurled his second sword at his back, which was pierced. This blow made him seemingly aware of Jevla's presence. He turned around, took the sword out of his back, and charged with it toward him at full speed. Jevla jumped back to the Air Toa's body, grabbing his sword ... ... Just in time to cut one of the Toa's leg as he was running. He crumbled on the ground, and crawled to try to kill him. Jevla only chopped the arm trying to reach for him, and then cut off his head. He then noticed a slight sound coming from behind him. Jevla turned back only to see himself at the mercy of the Ice Toa, grabbing his neck and swinging his knife toward his left eye. The arm was pierced by a disk coming from behind, and Jevla used all of his remaining strenght to lift the sword and slash his throat. In a gurgling sound, his foe fell on the ground. Jevla turned his head, and saw Miscris with her disk-launcher in hands, still smoking. She was looking at what was at the end of the room. Jevla turned to look ... ... But before he even did, he heard the last Toa, one of Plasma, ... clapping. 9 Jevla was taken aback by this turn of event. - Bravo! Braaaaaavo! It has been a while since I'm back in this world and I've had a worthy adversary! I must say your fighting prowesses are outmatched by my minions, Jevla! And they were Toas, which makes you even more formidable! His voice sounded like the Toa's vocal cords hadn't been used in a long time. Strangely, it was double ; there was a gurgling, atrophiated voice, and a clear, dark and mad background to it. Jevla realised that the being controlling the Toa of Plasma was only toying with him and had no intentions of fighting him, and turned his attention to Miscris, bleeding severely. Jevla tried to make her stay conscious : - Come on, Mis! Stay with me! It's just a flesh wound ... - Oh, old friend, don't turn your back on me, I wasn't joking! I need you to come and see me, to see what makes you tick. Come with me on the summit. Jevla saved only two word of that conversation in his memory : old friend. He thought he heard that intonation in a voice before, but where? The Toa's voice suddenly became more clear and low-pitched : - Come. The clarion rang in all its demonic might behind, pushing Jevla to the ground, making the Le-Matoran hear dark, mad voices in his head, whispering orders beyond even madness to comprehend ... - GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Jevla unleashed his psychic might on the voices, silencing them for good. He looked upon Miscris, unconscious, unaware of the mind-war that was waged near her. Jevla then turned on his assailant, frozen in stupor. - No mortal can resist my call! It is ... impossible! Jevla threw one of his Airsword in the Possessed Toa's chest, impaling him on the bloodied wall of the chapel. The Necromancer, connected to his victim, let a cry of agony away as his puppet's life was dripping away. Jevla walked forward toward him, anger in his deep-blue eyes, and said with a dark tone : - I'll deliver you back to Hell myself, you son of a ... Jevla slashed the throat of the Toa, ending his curse, and leaving himself ... alone. 10 Jevla tried his best to heal Miscris' wounds, but he could only prepare an improvised bandage, and put some coagulating herbs in ''the wound. Even then, when he was over, a red mark was beginning, slowly, to recover the bandage completely. Jevla began to despair and weaken, and he cried. He cried because she was everything to him : she was his friend, his companion ,... ... His love. He couldn't just leave her there. She could die, or worse : come back. But if he didn't, the Necromancer would gather back his strenghts, and strike at them afterward. This choice was ripping him appart. Miscris came back to consciousness, and Jevla wasn't sure if she was lucid or not, but she was looking at him straight in the eyes , and her message, in her exhausted voice settled his dilemn once and for all : - Silence ... the voices. End ... the torment. Jev ... mission ... must ... finish ... what ... we ... - Began, Jevla finished, feeling like he reached illumination itself. - Get ... that sucker ... for me. I'll watch ... your ... back ... Miscris smiled and went back into her sleep, seemingly unaware of her grievous state. Jevla sat down, and began to think logically, which he haven't done since he arrived in the Backwater Plains : the only way to secure Miscris' life was to defeat whatever lies at the summit. He should have enough strenght to finish it (his rage for protecting Miscris, which was lightened right now, should suffice), and he would take Miscris disk-launcher in case. He left her one of his Airsword, even thought he knew she couldn't defend herself. Deep inside, however ... "''Just in case." Jevla, with one disconsolable look, left Miscris, and exited the temple. Contrite, he marched ; nothing would stand in his way, nor would survive his wrath, if it dared walk down. Chapter 3 : Lost Sins 1 It seems that, in the end, I had no choice, but to strike down what was once a brother to me. It was because of me, and of the mixed feelings about me that you returned, it was because of this unfair death long ago, on that nameless, god-forsaken island. It was me that separated you from our trio, because I thought you were going crazy ... It was all my fault, Curtis! Forgive me! ''- Jevla, Lamentations'' 2 Rain began to fall, changing in snowflakes on the bloodied road, itself spilled by Jevla, as he was climbing the last hundred of meters to the summit. The crackling sound of thunder, echoing throughout the valley downward, made an impression of void near him. The ambiant darkness helped that impression, but the howling of the furious winds and the cries of the dead proved him wrong. Still, Jevla was alone, his last kills were squirming on the ground ... ... and he was still enraged. The only think maintaining him walking, and most of all fighting, was the thought that if he failed, Miscris would die. Nothing else except his fury would matter, as he was killing everything on sight on the road ahead, slashing and shooting his way throught an horde of possessed corpses. Jevla felt no pity for his opponents ; when they fell on the snowy road, he did not even finish them, knowing that they couldn't possibly crawl to Miscris. Time was of the essence, and it was running out. Jevla knew only one thing in his berserk state : that he would kill the Necromancer. No matter the cost.